The Right Time (68 page)

Townsend put her chin in her hand and stared at her. “I’m always interested in good news.”

Hennessy’s eyes shone with excitement. The smallest thing made her so damned happy. “I convinced one of my very favorite professors to teach a master class on developing a memoir.” She stuck both hands in the air triumphantly. “I’m stoked!”

“How’d you lure a Harvard prof down here in”—she thought for a second—”end of January, right?”

Hennessy let out a quiet laugh. “I’d think most of them would like to come down here to escape the snow, but this particular prof retired last year. You’re gonna love her. Guaranteed. And if she likes doing it, I’m going to press her to come back next year for even more sessions. She’s
wonderful
,” Hennessy enthused. “Twelve lucky students are going to have a life-changing experience with Doctor Kincaid.”

“Great. That means we only need two more instructors for our master’s session, right?”

“One more,” Hennessy said, showing a foxy smile. “Nicole’s supposed to sign on the dotted line within the next day or two.” Her head cocked. “She hasn’t mentioned that?”

“We haven’t talked about it. I told her I’m out of the loop when it comes to hiring, and she’s been very good about not involving me. That’s a good sign.”

“Very good,” Hennessy agreed.

“So you really liked her?” She knew she was begging for information, but it was okay at this point.

“I did.” Hennessy turned her chair around, opened the filing cabinet and removed a manilla folder. Taking a few pages out, she scanned them and nodded. “I was surprised at how much experience she has. Did she start teaching when she was still in school?”

“Don’t think so. I know she taught high school for a while, but didn’t care for it. Going solo was a career change for her.”

Hennessy continued to look at the CV. “How does that add up?”

Seeing what she was getting at, Townsend said, “She’s thirty-nine. That gives you a few years to play with.”

“Thirty-nine?” Her eyes popped wide open. “Then this all makes perfect sense.” Dropping the papers, she looked up and gave Townsend a wry grin. “You’re clearly not a cradle-robber.”

She stood and put a hand up to her shoulder, laughing when she said, “You only have to be this tall to ride. There’s no age limit.”

“Good for you. Expand your horizons.”

“Oh, I plan on having all sorts of things expanded when I see her next. I’ll keep you posted.”

“Feel free to keep me in the dark,” Hennessy said, sticking her fingers into her ears. “It’s always good to leave something to the imagination.”

By the end of June, they’d gotten the program pretty well organized. Hennessy still had some teaching slots to fill, but she was getting close. Now Townsend would be able to shift into high gear, finding students to occupy those classrooms.

Townsend went to the whiteboard on the wall and put a big X on the date. “It’s June the twenty-sixth,” she proclaimed.

Hennessy paused, her fingers hovering over the computer keys. Then she pushed her chair back and looked at Townsend. “Is this a new thing? You’re going to announce each day like the town crier?”

“Too busy. I just realized we’ve got six months until our first class starts. Time to get moving!”

“I’ve been moving.” Hennessy got up and stood next to the whiteboard, extended her index finger and pointed at the long list of courses, dates and instructors all ticked off. “January 3. Four classes. Four instructors hired. January 10. Five classes. Five instructors hired—”

Townsend clapped a hand over her mouth. “Okay. Then
I
need to get moving.”

Hennessy pried the hand away, checked the clock and started to pack up. “I’m glad you distracted me. I don’t want to miss my bus.” She moved back to her computer, closed down the program she was using and started to power down.

“Let me give you a ride to Beaufort,” Townsend said. “I swear I don’t mind.”

Hennessy paused to give her a fond smile. “Despite how kind you are, I can’t believe you really like taking a long drive through rush hour traffic just to drop me off at home. Especially on the day you close on your house!”

“You’d rather take a bus? That turns a forty-five minute drive into an hour and a half.”

“I’ve got a good book. You go on home and luxuriate in your house. Your air
con-di-tioned
house. Don’t give another thought to me sweatin’ and swatin’ skeeters.”

Townsend smiled. “You win. I’ll stop at the store and buy something special. Make myself a big housewarming meal.” She dropped her head in her hands. “Damn, that sounds pathetic!”

“I promise I’ll make you one when I get back. A really good one.” Hennessy offered a hug, then started for the door.

“At least let me drive you to the bus.” She caught herself and let out a quick laugh. “I almost said bus station. It’s hard to get my mind around using fast food outlets as transportation hubs.”

“McDonald’s and Wendy’s here. In Beaufort it’s the Walmart.” Her smile was particularly charming. “That’s class.”

“The whole system is odd,” Townsend said. “Like how there’s only one bus a day in each direction.”

Hennessy picked up a binder and tried to fit it into her backpack. Despite her claims, she never read a book on the bus. The woman was always working. “I wouldn’t call it a normal bus. Exactly.”

That stopped Townsend cold. “What kind of not normal bus is it?”

Her grin was so cute no one could have kept a straight face when she flashed it. “It’s normal. That wasn’t the right term.”

Townsend moved over to sit on the corner of Hennessy’s desk. “I’m close enough to twist your ear until you spill it, Boudreaux.” She slid her hand along Hennessy’s cheek, trapping her ear between her fingers. “Now talk.”

“Okay, okay.” She met Townsend’s eyes and said, “People who live on Hilton Head don’t take buses.”

“Obvious exception. You live on Hilton Head, and you take a bus.”

“True. I’m also the only person on that bus who doesn’t clean hotel rooms or wait tables or park cars or cut grass.” She shrugged. “The driver knows me now, but the first couple of times I tried to get on he did his best to convince me I was barking up the wrong tree.”

“Because you’re…white?”

“I think it’s more than that.” She bit at her bottom lip for a second. “I’ve moved past my roots. I don’t look like a girl who’s the first in her family to graduate from high school.”

Townsend was struck by how embarrassed she seemed to be to admit that. Pulling Hennessy close, she whispered into her ear, “I hate to break this to you, but you never looked like that.”

Hennessy jerked up to her full height. “Of course I did! I bought the first pair of new shoes I ever owned in Paris.”

“Doesn’t matter. The day I met you, I was sure you’d spent too much time in a tanning bed. You’ve always looked classy, baby girl. Always.”

Embarrassment colored her cheeks. “I still don’t feel it. I’m the same as those people on the bus. Hell, I would’ve been so much better off if I could’ve gotten a job cleaning hotels when I was in high school. I got paid nothing for working at the shack.”

Gently, Townsend stroked her hair. “I know you feel like a member of the underclass, but you’re not. You don’t have to embrace the professional class, but you’re in it. And that’s how people are going to treat you.” Townsend got up and placed a soft kiss on her cheek. “I hate to add to your woes, but you’ve lost a lot of your accent too.”

“I know,” she said, her head drooping in shame. “I’m gonna get it back.” Hoisting her heavy pack onto a shoulder she added, “Being around my family will help. I’m taking a weekend course in how to talk Low Country. Can’t be late.” Then she was off, backpack dangling, like a kid stumbling off the school bus.

Townsend emerged from the shower the next morning, responding to the insistent knock on her front door. When she opened it, a grinning Hennessy stood there, a bouquet of flowers in her hand. “Happy birthday, June Bug!”

“Oh, my God!” Bursting with pleasure, Townsend grabbed her and gave her a robust hug. Her hastily tucked towel started to fall and she grabbed it to cover herself. “Are you the sweetest thing ever, or what?”

“You know, you’re starting to sound like a Southerner. You’d better watch that or they’re going to take your New England membership card away.”

“They can have it. I’m a South Carolinian now. Get in here, you little scamp. Just give me a second to get dressed.”

Hennessy handed the flowers over, but didn’t enter. “I can’t just yet. I spent last night getting organized, but I’ve still got some things to do. Can I borrow your car?”

“Hold on a second and I’ll go with you.”

“No can do. It’s a surprise. I hope you don’t have any plans for the day, because what I’ve got cookin’ is gonna keep you busy until dark.”

Townsend grabbed the keys lying by the entry table and handed them over. “I have no plans at all. I’m yours for the taking.”

Hennessy leaned in and kissed her cheek. “I’m going to leave you right here. Don’t go away now.”

Townsend watched her rush down the stairs, so happy to have Hennessy remember her birthday that her body tingled with excitement. It was going to be a great one!

Two hours later, Hennessy returned, and started to unload an odd assemblage of tools and bags. Townsend had been sitting on her newly installed porch swing, and she called down, “Wait just a second and I’ll help you.”

Hennessy waved her off. “I’m set. You just sit there and look pretty.”

This was odd. She clearly had something brewing. Something Townsend couldn’t even begin to figure out. Hennessy walked to the furthest spot in the yard, straight across from the dock, carrying both a pick and a shovel.

“When I see a woman walking around my property with tools, I cannot sit on my porch and observe.” Townsend scrambled down her steps, then jogged across the yard until she stood right next to Hennessy. “What in the hell are you doing?”

Though she was trying not to grin, she was wholly unsuccessful. “I’m going to dig a trench. A small one. You’re not going to like it at first, but it’ll pay dividends in the long run. Trust me on this.”

She had such an adorably playful look on her face Townsend couldn’t refuse her. “Go ahead. Just make sure you can fill it in later.”

With utter confidence, she shook her head. “I believe this will be a permanent feature of your backyard. But if I’m wrong, I’ll fill it in.” She got to work, throwing her attention and her back into it. First she put her booted foot onto the top edge of the shovel blade and jumped on it, using her weight to sink down several inches. Then she moved the shovel a few inches and cut into the turf in a straight line. She’d told the truth, if her outline was the extent of it. It was going to be a pretty small trench—probably three feet long and two feet wide. Wiping the sweat from her forehead, Hennessy got down on her knees and used the shovel like a knife to separate the grass from the dirt. After she’d sliced it all the way through, she rolled the turf up and carried it over to the house. “If you could put some water on that, I’d appreciate it.”

“Are we planting sod?” Townsend asked.

“Nope. I don’t think we’ll need that again, but just in case we do—I don’t want it to die.”

Townsend followed instructions, soaking the sod with the garden hose. When she went back to supervise, she found Hennessy really getting into it. Her white T-shirt with the big crimson “H” was wet from her armpits down to the hem, soaked with sweat. Time and again, she swung the pick into the bare dirt, breaking it up into big clods. Her cheeks were so pink, Townsend went to get her a glass of iced tea to save her from heat exhaustion.

Hennessy snugged a tarpaulin next to the spot, then stood in the dirt and started shoveling it out of the hole with quick, precise tosses. Soon, she had all of the dirt neatly piled atop the blue plastic, and she leaned heavily on her shovel. “I am
so
glad I make my living with my brain. Working like this would kill me.”

“At any point are you going to tell me what in the hell you’re doing?”

Hennessy took the glass Townsend held for her, angled it to her mouth and drained it. “If you can’t figure it out soon, you’re not as bright as you look.” She jiggled the glass with her filthy hand. “More, please.”